


Respirar

by setmeonfireplease



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Emotional Abuse, F/M, It's because of his tragic backstory that's why, Kevin's dad is abusive and it sucks, Physical Abuse, Please read the author notes for in depth trigger warnings, Teen!Camila, Teen!Kevin, This is basically a "why did they end up in New York" fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setmeonfireplease/pseuds/setmeonfireplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin stood in the bathroom, his heartbeat erratic and pounding. His hands clutched the bathroom sink with a grip so tight that his brown knuckles were turning white. His arms were shaking (his whole body was shaking, really). His brown eyes were wide and bloodshot. He could feel bile rising up in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it down. Camila was just outside the door, in her bedroom listening to records and reading. He knew the sounds of him vomiting would draw her attention, and she’d come to check on him and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t see the marks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this fic is basically about Camila finding out that Kevin is being abused and the events that unfold afterwards. It's all through Kevin's point of view, and it will sort of go into detail about the affects it has on him (physically and emotionally). If you want a more in depth description of anything that might be a trigger, or their placements in the chapter, please go to the end author notes. Please read and please be wary. And if you need anything tagged, please let me know in the comments. I have no problem doing so.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also I know the title is corny I picked it at 3 am because I was tired and uncreative please don't judge me.

Kevin stood in the bathroom, his heartbeat erratic and pounding. His hands clutched the bathroom sink with a grip so tight that his brown knuckles were turning white. His arms were shaking (his whole body was shaking, really). His brown eyes were wide and bloodshot. He could feel bile rising up in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it down. Camila was just outside the door, in her bedroom listening to records and reading. He knew the sounds of him vomiting would draw her attention, and she’d come to check on him and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t see the marks.

He looked into the bathroom mirror that was quickly becoming covered with steam. Part of him felt bad, letting the water run like this. It was a waste, and kids as poor as he was didn’t waste anything, let alone something as precious and as expensive as hot water. But Camila’s family could afford it. Camila’s family could afford a lot of things his couldn’t.

Kevin lifted a shaky hand and wiped the steam from the mirror in order to properly assess the damage that has been put upon his body.

He was too thin, his skin pulled tight over his protruding bones as a sign of how little he ate. Camila called him _flaco_ more often than she called him his own name. She thought it was funny. He knew that if she ever saw how truly skinny he was, she wouldn’t think it was a joke anymore. Kevin’s body (which ached like you wouldn’t believe) was littered in bruises. Some were older, had already turned that nasty yellow color and were fading away. Some were fresher, still appearing and growing darker as time went by. He knew that if he turned around, he’d see the old scars from his father’s riding crop running up and down his back. He didn’t want to turn around.

He wondered how long it would take for these bruises to fade (and if they would even have enough time to fade before the next ones arrived) when he noticed some trailing too far down his arms to be covered by a short sleeve _guayabera_. He let out a low groan when he realized he’d have to wear long sleeved shirts until they disappeared. It was getting to be too hot for long sleeved shirts, and he doubted he’d get away with that without any questions. It was July for Christ’s sake.

Kevin continued to stand there for a few more minutes, trying to push today’s events out his mind. He didn’t want to think of his father and his harsh words (and his even harsher hands). He didn’t want to think of the pain, or the moment’s where he just laid on the floor wondering if he should allow the pain to take him. He didn’t want to think to think of any of that.

He wasn’t at the farm.

He wasn’t with his father.

He wasn’t going to allow the pain to take him.

He was with Camila right now, and they had too much love for each other for him to want to leave (it was weakness, those moments. When he wanted to die. They were just moments of weakness that came too often, and weakness could not - would not be tolerated. If his father knew, it’d just earn him another beating anyway).

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling a headache coming on. He was stressing himself out too much.

He started to unbutton his pants, ready to finally take his shower when the bathroom door opened.

“ _Oye flaco_ , you’re taking too lo - oh my god,” Camila said, her voice changing from a teasing tone to one of horror so quickly it gave Kevin whiplash.

“Camila!” Kevin shrieked as he swiftly turned around in horror. “Get out!”

Camila didn’t move. Her eyes were so wide that they were practically popping out of her head, and they kept flicking over his body, taking in every mark marring his skin. He felt his face heating up. He had never been shirtless in front of anybody before, let alone his girlfriend.

“Camila -”

“Are those whip marks?” She asked, interrupting him. He realized her eyes were trained on his reflection in the mirror, where he realized his back was on full view to her. His breathing was becoming short again, his heartbeat once again becoming erratic.

“Camila get out.” He repeated. She ignored him again, instead taking a step closer to him.

“Kevin . . . _tu padre_ . . . did he do this?” His silence was answer enough, apparently, because her look of concern transformed into one of anger.

She was pacing, cursing his father under her breath (Kevin felt a strong need to protect the man from her insults but figured that would only serve to make Camila angrier).

“How long has this been happening?”

“Camila -”

“How long, Kevin?”

“For as long as I can remember,” He couldn’t deny Camila anything she wanted, even if it caused him this much pain. He just couldn’t. Especially when she looked that upset.

She made a noise in the back of her throat that was almost inhuman. She started up her rant again, and Kevin had to interrupt her. Again.

“Camila por favor,” His voice was quieter, hoarser than the last time. He could feel his stomach churning. Camila stared him down, her face and eyes hard. She was studying him.

He didn’t like it. After a moment, her gaze softened.

“Fine, _mi amor_. But we will talk when you are done,” She murmured. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she turned around and exited the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed, Kevin turned around and vomited in the sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Paragraph 1: Anxiety attack, mentions of wanting to throw up.
> 
> Paragraph 4: Descriptions of being underweight and malnutrition. Not due to an eating disorder, but due to lack of food. Either way, if you think you might be triggered by this, please be wary. Descriptions of bruising and scars. The scars come from being whipped by a riding crop, all though the actual event is not described and is far in the past.
> 
> Paragraph 5: Continued description of bruising.
> 
> Paragraph 6: Vague mention of suicidal thoughts. The thoughts are not described but instead it is remembered that they took place.
> 
> Paragraph 9: Vague mention of suicide.
> 
> Paragraph 10: Explicit mention of suicidal thoughts.
> 
> Paragraph 17: Mentions of scars from whipping. Beginnings of anxiety attack.
> 
> Paragraph 27: Vomiting.
> 
> Please keep in mind that abuse is a heavy factor throughout the whole story, so even though it's not explicitly tagged, it's usually mentioned in small ways, and affects nearly everything going on. If you are afraid this may be a problem, then please don't take the risk. I really don't want anybody to be triggered or get hurt because of this.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. Please comment to let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the end author notes for in depth trigger warnings. I'm not sure why the notes from the first chapter are repeating underneath the notes from this one but idk how to fix it. Uh, just read the first set, cause those are the ones that apply to this chapter specifically. And if you don't see this and don't know what I'm talking about then just ignore this whole thing.

Camila was pacing.

And ranting.

Camila was ranting and pacing back and forth within the limited space of her messy, cluttered room. Kevin was sitting on her bed. His hair was wet from the shower, and water was dripping down his neck and wetting his shirt. He felt irritated and disoriented. He felt like there was an itch under his skin. All he wanted to do was scratch it. He needed to concentrate on something else.

“You need to clean your room,” Kevin said, interrupting Camila’s stream of insults against his father. She paused, turned, and looked him in the eye.

“What?” She asked, the confusion and annoyance in her voice as clear and easy to pick up on as the shakiness and discomfort in his own.

“You need to clean your room. You have too many things, and they’re everywhere,” He said with a shrug. Camila was studying him, hard (he hated it when she did that). Her eyes were squinted and she was chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

“It’s just that, Kevin. Things. It doesn’t matter if it’s on a shelf or on the floor,” She said slowly after a few moments. Kevin felt annoyance spike through him.

“Yeah, well I don’t have a lot of things. So it matters to me,” He snapped. Camila raised an eyebrow.

“ _Amor_ , if it matters to you, then we can clean up later. Right now, we have to talk.” Kevin wanted to pick a fight, direct the subject away from him and his father, and Camila wasn’t falling for it. Part of him wished that she did, that she took the bait and got riled and eventually kicked him out after a harsh fight. The other part was grateful she didn’t.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Despite the part of him that was grateful for her persisting they’d talk about this, that he’d open up to her, he still couldn’t allow himself to. Or maybe he wouldn’t allow himself to open up. He didn’t know which one was true. Camila continued to give him that look. The one that said _I’m not falling for your shit_. He loved that look, even when it was directed at him. He really thought she could take over the world with that look, and was just being kind by not doing so.

“Camila, please –”

“No. Camila please _nada_. You can’t avoid talking to me and you know it.” Part of him wanted to hate her, for how out of control she made him feel. She could take him down with just a glance, could make him fall to his knees and do whatever she wanted with just a _por favor_ _Kevin_.

He hated it, not being in control.

Feeling helpless.

Camila made him feel helpless, because even if she hadn’t taken over the whole world (yet), she sure as hell had taken over his. And she had done it without even trying to.

“Camila it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just discipline. My father disciplines me, just like everybody else’s.”

“Discipline?” Camila asked skeptically. She sat down besides Kevin and took his bony arm in her hands. She lifted his sleeve and pointed at the large bruises that littered his upper arm. The ones in the shapes of a large hand. “You call this discipline?"

Kevin shrugged and looked to the side. His heart was pounding and his throat was closing up.

“Kevin, a father spanking his child once in a while is discipline. A father whipping his eighteen year old son is . . . well it’s . . .” Camila faltered, stumbling around in an attempt to find a word that wasn’t that word. Neither wanted to call it what it really was.

“Camila, I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Kevin said. Camila stood up, and when Kevin looked at her, he saw that she looked angry. That pissed him off. Why was she angry? Shouldn’t he be the one who was angry? He was the one who was being . . . well you know.

“The truth Kevin! I want you to tell me the truth instead of dancing around it like a damn fool!” Camila snapped, nearly screaming. Kevin could feel himself flinch and begin to curl into himself, trying to be smaller than he was. He hated when people yelled at him. He panicked. He was panicking. He felt a wave of anger and irritation wash over him however, and it pushed the anxiety further down. He still felt it, but it wasn’t as strong now.

“You want the truth Camila? Fine! The truth is that my father beats me almost every other day! He used to whip me, and one time he whipped me so badly I almost died! And every day, he makes sure to let me know how worthless I am! That’s the truth Camila! Are you happy now?” Kevin was screaming at the top of his lungs. He was standing now, his chest heaving as he attempted to take deep breathes to calm his pounding heart and rushing thoughts.

His throat felt raw.

He felt raw.

He wasn’t used to yelling.

He wasn’t used to telling the truth.

Camila’s eyes were wide as she stared up at him. She remained silent, yet her eyes said it all. They kept flicking all over his face. She was studying him again.

“Kevin . . .” Her voice trailed off, but she reached out to touch him. To hold him. To comfort him in some way. Kevin shook his head and took a step back. If she held him, he would start to cry. He couldn’t do that. He _couldn’t_.

Camila’s face transformed after that. The shock went away, replaced with sadness and pity. Kevin wanted to scream. He hated pity, and that’s how everybody always looked at him.

The poor farm boy.

The one who barely graduated high school.

The one with the dead mother.

The one worthy of everybody’s pity.

Camila was the one person who never pitied him, who never gave him that look. Until now.

“ _Mi corazón_ . . . don’t look at me like that. I’m alright,” Kevin said, almost pleadingly.

“You aren’t,” Camila disagreed forcefully.

“Maybe. But I’m alive. I’ve managed that much at least.”

“Yeah but what if you . . . what if he . . . I can’t lose you Kevin.” Camila looked desperate. She sounded desperate. Kevin had never seen her that way before. It made him feel a certain way that he knew he would never be able to describe. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. Not by Camila, but by her parents coming back home.

“ _Coño_ I got to go,” Kevin said, swallowing his fear as he heard the front door open and her mother announce their arrival. Camila shook her head frantically.

“No you don’t.” She protested, grabbing hold of Kevin’s arm as he moved to her bedroom window. Kevin looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I do. You know I do. You know what your parents will do if they find me with you,” Kevin said. Camila’s parents hated him and forbade her from seeing him (a lot of good that did). They thought their daughter could do better than a poor farm boy. They were right, but it still stung.

“Kevin I don’t want you to go back to the farm,” Camila said. They were whispering now, and Kevin could hear Camila’s mother call out for her. They would come to check on her soon, and Kevin had to be gone by then.

“Camila –”

“You could hide. In the bathroom or under the bed or in the closet or –”

“I can’t hide here forever.” He interrupted.

“I’m scared for you.”

“Don’t be. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I? I think I can manage another night.” It was a half assed attempt at comforting her. They both knew there was no guarantee. But they also both knew that he couldn’t stay here, or avoid going back to the farm forever.

They stared at each other for what he knew was only a moment, but what felt like hours. Time had slowed down, yielding to the intensity of the moment. It almost hurt to have somebody look at him like that. It was like looking into the sun.

Time sped up when they heard footsteps heading towards Camila’s room. Camila finally released Kevin’s arm and let him rush to the window. Once he got it open, he jumped out onto the ground below. He was about to run off when Camila stopped him by grabbing the back of his shirt. He turned around and was met with her lips. The kiss was soft, sweet, and quick. Kevin loved it when Camila kissed him like that. It was one of the most (only) gentle things in his life.

“ _Adiós_ ,” Kevin said when Camila pulled back.

“Adiós.” Camila’s smile was as gentle as their kiss. It took Kevin’s breathe away (her smile always did that).

He hid in the bushes below the windowsill when he heard the bedroom door open.

“Camila? I’ve been calling you.” Mrs. Ortiz’s voice was stern.

“Sorry _mamá_. I didn’t hear you,” Camila said. Kevin wanted to laugh. He knew she was trying her best to sound apologetic, but it sounded sarcastic at best. God he loved her.

Mrs. Ortiz did not appreciate it, however, and immediately started to scold her daughter. Kevin waited it out, wishing she’d hurry up because his back was starting to hurt.

“And why is your window open?”

“W-what?” Camila asked, sounding as startled as Kevin felt.

“Your window. Why is it open?” Mrs. Ortiz’s voice was starting to carry a suspicion Kevin desperately wished wasn’t there.

“I was hot,” Camila said.

“You were hot? _Mija_ are you stupid? You have a fan.” A long stream of curse words went through Kevin’s mind. The one time Camila was too freaked out to be thinking quickly may have been the one time they really needed it.

“I . . . I wanted fresh air,” Camila said slowly, sounding unsure of herself.

“You wanted fresh air?” Mrs. Ortiz said skeptically. There wasn’t an answer, so Kevin assumed Camila nodded. He heard footsteps approaching the window, so he curled further into himself in an attempt to be smaller than he already was.

He looked up and saw Mrs. Ortiz stick her head out the window. He was frozen, not even breathing for fear she’d hear. She was scanning the yard, searching for something amiss (deep down, Kevin knew she was searching for him, but he would rather believe that her parents had no suspicions than admit the truth). When she was satisfied, she pulled her head back in.

“Don’t keep the window open like this. You’ll let the bugs in,” Mrs. Ortiz said.

“ _Si mamá_ ,” Camila responded as Mrs. Ortiz closed the window.

“Now come help me put the groceries away.”

“ _Si mamá_.” Their voices were muffled because of the window, and eventually disappeared completely when they left the room. Kevin allowed himself to breathe when that happened. He waited a minute, and then bolted across the yard. He basically threw himself over the fence and continued to run when he made it over. If Mr. Ortiz saw him anywhere near his property (let alone in his daughter’s bedroom), he’d probably shoot him.

Kevin didn’t want to go to the farm. The thought alone had his blood pressure on the rise. So instead, he walked around the town until his feet hurt. And after his feet were killing him, he continued to walk (those as poor as he was weren’t allowed to loiter. People would think he was up to no good). He continued to wander around town, trying to avoid the area were all the wealthy people lived. He spent some time in the grocery store where he worked, wanting the air conditioning, but when the shift manager saw him he kicked him out (if he wasn’t working or shopping he wasn’t allowed in). Kevin was going to head into the bar (he could usually convince the bartender to let him have a drink or two out of pity), but when he saw his father’s truck in the parking lot he decided against it.

He waited until the sun was setting before heading back to the farm. It was a few miles out of town so by the time he got there, it was dark out. His father was still not back, and Kevin wondered if he was passed out back at the bar or went home with someone. He hoped it was the latter, cause the former meant that he’d have to go back to drive him.

The moon was full and Kevin wanted to wait out and watch the night sky, but his stomach was growling. He couldn’t remember eating in the past two days. He walked into the house and went straight to the kitchen. He was surprised to find it stocked full of food, and he realized that his father must have gotten hungry enough to actually go grocery shopping. He made himself a hand sandwich and wandered outside. He finished in moments before lying down on the ground.

Kevin began to connect the constellations he remembered seeing in the book Camila gave him for him for his birthday. He fell asleep like that. When he woke up, the moon had been replaced by the obnoxious sun and the stars had disappeared.

He groaned and sat up. His back hurt from sleeping on the ground. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and raised his hand to shield them from the sun. He looked around and saw that his father’s truck was parked by the house. Kevin felt a spike of annoyance shoot through him as he realized his father continued to let him sleep outside. He probably didn’t even notice Kevin lying there.

Kevin wasn’t sure which was worse; His father not seeing his own son, or the beatings he gave him when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paragraph 17: Descriptions of bruising.
> 
> Paragraph 19: Mention of spanking. Mention of whipping.
> 
> Paragraph 21: Kevin begins to panic due to being yelled at.
> 
> Paragraph 22: Descriptions of the abuse Kevin has suffered. It is not in depth or heavily described, but instead it is more of a "this, this, and this happened" type thing. He is yelling, though.
> 
> Paragraph 33: Mention of his mother being dead.
> 
> Paragraph 39: Allusions to death caused by abuse.
> 
> Paragraph 48: Allusions to death caused by abuse.
> 
> Paragraph 68: Mentions of underage drinking. Is not described or taking place in the present, but it is stated that it is something that has happened in the past.
> 
> Paragraph 70: Mention of under eating. Not due to an eating disorder, but due to lack of food.
> 
> Paragraph 72: Mention of neglect.
> 
> Paragraph 73: Mention of getting beaten. Does not actually take place, and is not described, but is explicitly stated that it does in fact happen.
> 
> I'm always willing to tag anything that you ask, just please be sure let me know in the comments. Thank you guys so much for reading. Please be sure to leave a review if you liked it. I hope you all have an amazing day!

**Author's Note:**

> Paragraph 1: Anxiety attack, mentions of wanting to throw up.
> 
> Paragraph 4: Descriptions of being underweight and malnutrition. Not due to an eating disorder, but due to lack of food. Either way, if you think you might be triggered by this, please be wary. Descriptions of bruising and scars. The scars come from being whipped by a riding crop, all though the actual event is not described and is far in the past. 
> 
> Paragraph 5: Continued description of bruising.
> 
> Paragraph 6: Vague mention of suicidal thoughts. The thoughts are not described but instead it is remembered that they took place.
> 
> Paragraph 9: Vague mention of suicide.
> 
> Paragraph 10: Explicit mention of suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> Paragraph 17: Mentions of scars from whipping. Beginnings of anxiety attack.
> 
> Paragraph 27: Vomiting.
> 
> Please keep in mind that abuse is a heavy factor throughout the whole story, so even though it's not explicitly tagged, it's usually mentioned in small ways, and affects nearly everything going on. If you are afraid this may be a problem, then please don't take the risk. I really don't want anybody to be triggered or get hurt because of this.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. Please comment to let me know what you think.


End file.
